Lighten Up, It's Just Life
by sorrow.and.happiness
Summary: AU fic about three groups of the boys and their angsty, intertwining teenage lives in high school. Rated T for language and possible slash in future. R&R please!
1. Tales of a Street Rat Morning

**A/N:** I had some of this on my computer for a while, so I decided to finish what I had and put it up on FF as a first chapter. It's my first AU fic and hopefully it's enjoyable ). Possibly slash in the future, but I'm not sure yet. But what I am sure of is that it will be angsty! Ah, teen angst. How we hate you but love to read stories about you…

But anyway, just sit back, relax, and enjoy! R&R please when you're done! Reviews make me happy!

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**Tales of a Street Rat Morning**_Chapter one of many__Introducing: The Street Rats_

Michael McNeil heard the quick, triple knock on his door and automatically threw his backpack over his shoulder, as if the motion were programmed into him. The broken strap of the bag dangled and hit the back of his legs as he walked over to the door. Running his fingers through his already messy hair with one hand, he reached for the doorknob with the other and exited his apartment.

Door opened, and he was greeted by a smile of rather large white teeth.

"Ready Skits?" asked the boy with the teeth. Drowsily, Michael nodded his head and reached behind him to close the door. Despite his lack of energy, his friend, Darius Whitman, was always overloaded with it. Two years ago, freshman year, Darius discovered the caffeinated powers of Red Bull. He bought it every other day by the case and would finish it all by the next day, sometimes even throwing in a Rock Star or Monster. It was an insane addiction, but like he always told his friend: at least it's not crack.

"Yeah, hold on, Snitch," Michael said to Darius. He took out a key from his pocket and locked the door before setting off down the 5th floor hallway of the apartment.

Both Skittery and Snitch had lived in the apartment building since they were around 7, becoming best friends since second grade when their mothers met in the elevator on their way to take them to grade school. The two had been merely inseparable throughout their grade school days, so much to the point where Snitch had to be taken home early from summer camp in fifth grade because he didn't want to be without his "other half". Of course, it was cute at 10, but as they got older, they realized they should tone down the "two peas in a pod" thing. They realized that once they hit middle school and were well into high school, people wouldn't accept it the same way. Sad thing is, once reality hits you and you realize that you need more than one friend in your life, bonds loosen a bit, even with your strongest companion.

Walking down the tacky brown-carpeted hallway, they passed by an opening door that was emitting one of their classmates into the hall with them. They pair knew the boy as David but that was about as deep as their knowledge of the boy went. They walked past him without even a wave.

David Jacobs was a strange sort of kid. He was the quiet type, one that made you wonder if he suffered from a social condition or was just extremely shy. Some think shy is too sweet a word to give to the boy. It is believed by some that the reason he keeps to himself is to give him time to plot murders or something. No one really trusts the guy and most students do what they can to avoid him.

The year prior, there had been a bomb threat written in the boys bathroom that caused chaos throughout the school. Most were certain it was him. Sarah Jacobs, David's own _sister_ wouldn't even stick up for him. In school, she ignored him just as much as any other student would. At home was when she befriended him. David resented how his sister would turn on him once inside the school, but he couldn't find the heart to hate her. Family meant a lot to him now because it was the only thing he really had.

The truth was, David wasn't a serial killer, nor did he suffer from some form of a social disorder. He was simply a misunderstood guy in a high school where he believed everyone was a superficial asshole. Despite the accusations of being a serial killer, David was actually quite the opposite. He liked to think of himself as a peacemaker. He couldn't tell you how many times he walked down the hallways at J.P. High, looking with hatred at fistfights that broke out or the cliquey groups that littered the school grounds. He hated the fact that no one would do anything about any of it. He was, in a way, a hypocrite to his own beliefs, seeing as he did absolutely nothing to stop them either.

As his apartment neighbors passed by him on the floor, he couldn't help but give them a look of disproval. He hadn't gotten a hello or anything from them since the 7th grade, when rumors first began flying around about him and people decided to ignore him. Not that they were good friends, but he used to think Snitch and Skittery and whole group were good people. In fact, he had been trying to recruit himself into their group all year, feeling that he belonged alongside them. However, once they joined the crowd and began to ignore him as well, his opinion changed.

David ended up doing a lot of thinking and changing that year. More than the average 13 year old needed to.

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J.P. High School was like any other private school found in the Upper East Side of New York City. Attending, you got your stuck up rich folk who lived in penthouses overlooking the crowded city streets. You got your levelheaded rich folk who lived in penthouses overlooking the crowded city streets. You got your just plain rich folk that got lost in the crowd of other rich folk who lived in penthouses overlooking the crowded city streets. Then, you got your folk from average to below-average income families who only attended the school out of scholarships. Scholarships were only given to kids with at least a 3.8 out of 4.0 average who needed them. So, as you could see, the "poorer" kids were the most intelligent, and had to be if they wanted to stay in the school.

Belonging to the crowd of the less wealthy kids, which were labeled the "street rats" (such an endearing term, no?), was a boy named Henri Flynn. That morning, Henri was propped atop one of the lunchroom tables with a casted leg extended onto the orange plastic seat of a metal chair.

Ever since he broke his _again_ playing hockey, his dad had to drive him to school on his way over to his work. Of course, that would mean that Henri would arrive at school 20 minutes before any of his friends would. Not that he minded anymore though. After breaking, twisting, or fracturing almost every part of his leg from his femur to his ankle, Henri had adapted to coming in early and waiting.

One by one, his friends began to trickle in and join him at their usual meeting table in the lunchroom.

"Heya, Dutchy," Henri called to his bespectacled friend as he trudged his way over. Dutchy, better known to his parents as Peter Atkins, dropped his textbook-filled backpack on the table and took a seat.

"How's the leg, Crutch?" he asked, settling into a comfortable position on the plastic, a task that screamed impossible.

"Hurts like a bitch, but only when I use it."

"Then don't use it," said a voice as they heard another thunk of a backpack hitting the table.

"Ok, Einstein with an Eye patch, thanks for the advice," Crutchy said as he turned to face his grinning friend.

"Hey, it's what I do best. Why else would they make me the advice columnist of The World?" Kid Blink asked, referencing the school newspaper. It was named after an old paper created by the monumental figure that lent his name to the school: Joseph Pulitzer.

"Maybe because no one else would volunteer to read people's sob stories about their poor, poor lives," Dutchy said, feigning sympathy. He ended it with a laugh and Crutchy joined him. Even at 7:10 in the morning, Dutchy was always up for a good laugh.

"Yeah well, that's only half true, Dutch," Blink said as he turned a chair backwards and swung his leg over it. "I had to beat out Dean Cooper to get it. Only reason he wanted it though was because it looks good for colleges." He scratched his head where the string of his eye patch was digging into him.

Crutchy nodded and looked out past rows and rows of lunch tables until his gaze set upon Dean, a good 20 yards away sitting on a table and laughing with his group of friends. He had a Lacrosse stick in hand and a long bag lying next to him on the table. "All he's got goin for him is sports."

"Yeah. The day I hear he's passed one of Snyder's chem tests is the I shall drop out here and put up with public school."

"Doubt you'd ever survive in public school, Dutch. You can barely make it here."

Dutchy turned his head to see their friends Swifty and Bumlets walk over with Skittery and Snitch. The last person they were waiting on now was Jake. Jake Murphy. He was a new addition to the school and the group, so he was yet to receive a proper nickname like the others. It was usual for him to be the last one to arrive. He came all the way from Brooklyn and had to take the subway every morning just to make it to school.

The bell rang and the 7 got up from the table and reclaimed their stuff. Just as they were headed for the hallway, Jake finally joined them, Egg McMuffin in hand.

"Since when did you have time to get food?" Bumlets asked, envious as he looked at the poorly crafted, half eaten breakfast sandwich. "You barely even have time make it here as it is."

"Subway was late at my last stop. There was a McDonalds close by so I stopped there to get something," he said, taking a bite of it. "I'm starving. I didn't even have time to eat breakfast last night!"

"Why?" Snitch asked him.

"Long story."

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**A/N:** So this was just the intro of the first group of boys. There will possibly be three groups to be featured, and once all three are introduced, the plot will thicken. Once again, R&R please!


	2. Tales of a HoityToity Morning

**Tales of a Hoity-Toity morning  
**_Chapter two of many_  
Introducing: the high-end assholes

Some would compare the ringing of the bell in J.P. High to that which sets off a stampede in an African safari. Others would disagree, however, saying it's so much worse.

Kids leapt to their feel, grabbing their belongings, trying to get a head start before the rush. Each one made a mad dash to their respectable homerooms. Not because they were eager to begin their 7 hour school day, but because of a new policy put into play that stated: If you do not arrive to class on time, you will have to suffer the consequences given to you by the school. Few had since challenged the new rule since they were set in motion. Some of which were never seen again. No, not because they were executed for their inconvenient tardiness as the rumors had stated. They were expelled. J.P. was one hell of a prestigious school. They meant business.

The students left the lunchroom faster than a horse could leave the gates at a race. At least, that's what Tony Higgins thought to himself as he slowly got to his polished-leather clad feet. He took his time, putting his black backpack over his right shoulder. Kids zoomed past him as he began his steady paced walk to homeroom. Unlike the other kids, Tony didn't need to rush to get there.

How come, you ask? Well, let's take a closer look at Mr. Higgins. We'll call it a little history lesson.

Anthony Rhys Higgins was born to Maria and John Higgins on a cold winters day sometime in 1990. Or was it 1989? Oh, hell, does it really matter? He grew up in an Upper East Side brownstone where he and his older brother, Scott, learned the ways of the hoity toity, rich, spoiled-brat lifestyle. They were supported by daddy's millions from owning a real estate business, and mommy's inheritance from her grandfather. She was the only grandchild the guy liked, so of course she got quite the fair share of cash.

Mrs. Maria Higgins was an extremely independent woman. Fully equipped with a masters in teaching and an ego fit for a man, Maria set out to find herself her own job so she didn't have to feel completely submissive to her husband. She taught at J.P. High School for two years. Ready to reach new heights her third year, Little Maria ran for Superintendant. She got the job.

So, with a mommy pretty much running things as Queen in the land of education, Tony was free to do pretty much anything he wanted in his school. Teachers were too afraid to punish the son of the head honcho, fearing the loss of a job. They knew that with an attitude like she had, they would be out of a job with their stuff already packed up in boxes before they could say "I was only following school rules!"

Anyway, let's pick back up where we left off.

Tony sauntered off to the classroom, making his way inside after the final bell rang. A smug, pleasured, I-can-get-away-with-anything look graced his face as he walked to his seat. Mr. Wiesel, his homeroom teacher, glared at the back of his head. Just because mommy was the Super didn't mean he had to like the kid. He just couldn't punish him. Once Tony was comfortable in his seat, Wiesel began taking attendance.

"Hiss?"

"Here."

"Hernandez?"

Tony saw the boy who he and his friends referred to as Aladdin raise his hand and knew he was next on the list. Before his name was even called he shouted "Here". Wiesel gave an aggravated sigh and marked that he was present. Tony smirked with satisfaction and turned to his friend sitting next to him.

"So where were you yesterday, Itey?" he asked. Fredrick Garcia waited for his name to be called before answering.

"Just home," he said.

"How come? Spending an entire Sunday home's shitty."

"I know. But I really couldn't do anything, Race. I was so hung-over." Itey said. Racetrack laughed out loud.

"Oh yeah. You got so hammered at Spot's! When you passed out, we were all ready to leave you for dead!"

"Well isn't that comforting," Itey said while rolling his eyes. Race was annoying him already. Usually that didn't happen until third period Physics. Itey had low intolerance for not only alcohol, but also all of his friends when it came down to it. Out of everyone in the little circle, he was probably the one who fit in the least, and he knew it.

The only reason Itey remained with the group was because they were all he had. He had known every single one of the guys since he moved to New York in the fourth grade. He got along great with them up until high school. That's when he realized that everyone was beginning to go through changes of personality and he wasn't a fan of where most were headed.

Attendance was all taken and the bell finally rang, stirring up another stampede. Racetrack once again took his time, but Itey sprang for the door. In a sense, he was glad Race was enough of an asshole to take the fact that his mom was the Super for granted. That meant that he didn't have to walk with him.

Rich boy Bryan Lynch, also known as Pie Eater, was unfortunate enough that morning to get stuck behind a boy on crutches on the way to first period. It was Henri Flynn, or Crutchy, as he had heard his friends call him. They were both headed for the same class too: French. Bryan started breathing heavily out of frustration.

He figured he could pass him out soon. Crutch-boy would be stopping at the elevator in no time. A wrench was soon thrown into this plan, though, once Henri passed right on by the elevator and made his way into the stairwell.

"What the hell are you doing? Just take the god-damned elevator!" Pie said. Henri had to look behind him to see where the unfamiliar voice had come from.

"Oh," he said with little to no enthusiasm. "Can't. Elevator's out for maintenance. Gotta take the stairs this week."

"It's out this whole week?! You can't be serious!" Pie said as he stopped dead in his tracks on the stairs. He was not ready to be doing this for a week straight. "You telling me I'm gonna be late to French now for five days?"

"You could always just take the other staircase," Crutchy said, mounting the landing of the first flight of stairs. He took a break and looked down at Pie Eater as he rested on his crutches. Others on the stairs who were stuck behind him took this opportunity to run past and sprint to their classes.

"That's all the way on the other side. I'd never make it from there either."

Crutchy began his slow climb of the second set of stairs. "Well then I guess the answer is yes, you'll most likely be late."

Pie Eater was livid. He began a sprint up the rest of the stairs, skipping every other one. They both reached the top and the bell rang, signaling the beginning of first period. Pie lost a little color from his face.

"Shit. Shit!" he said. "What do I tell Madame now?" Crutchy shrugged and began his hobble to the door.

"Not my problem. I got a pass."

Crutchy was in the classroom already before Pie had begun to move again. He ran and threw open the door as quickly as he could.

Inside, 27 pairs of eyes just stared at him. One of which belonged to Madame Lebrun, who stood at the chalkboard with her arms crossed.

"You're late, Bryan," she said with her fake French accent. She just stood there, waiting for an explanation why. Pie Eater felt her eyes on him, feeling as though they were setting fire to his skin. But before he could open his mouth to say anything, another voice spoke out.

"He was helping me, Madame."

27 pairs of eyes then switched from looking at Pie to Crutchy who was at his seat in the second row in an instant. His voice sounded as if it were painful for him to help the guy out. Who would blame him though? Pie and his group of friends had been causing a lot of shit for Crutchy and his gang for years now. No one understood why he even choose to speak up in the first place.

"Helping you with what, Henri?"

"Getting to class," he said. Pie hadn't been this confused since he smoked pot at a party last month. "You see, the elevator's out all this week, and I need to take the stairs. The nurse said she wanted someone to come with me just incase something happened while going up."

"Yes, I see. But why, may I ask, was Bryan _Lynch_ picked to help you? You're not even in the same homerooms," Madame clearly wasn't buying it. Yet.

"Because," Pie took control of the story now, "My homeroom is in the same hallway as Henri's and we both go to the same class in the morning."

"Ok. Do you boys have a pass to show me then?" she asked. Pie Eater had nothing to say.

"Well," Henri began. "I have one for my leg. The nurse would have given us one for both of us but she didn't have any more."

"Alright," Madame Lebrun said, still skeptical. "I'll let you off for today, but that is only if you can show me a pass tomorrow. Bryan you may take your seat."

Pie Eater happily rushed to get to his chair. Crutchy was at the desk diagonally in front of him. Taking out his notebook, Pie ripped out the corner of a page and scribbled on it. He crumpled the paper into a ball and threw it on Crutchy's desk. They passed the paper ball back and forth for about 15 minutes, in between taking notes.

_How come you just offered to save my ass?_

_Felt guilty. It's a feeling you get when you're a nice person. Not sure you really know what it feels like._

_That's kind of a shitty thing to write. But anyway, how are we gonna get the pass?_

_I dunno. I really can't get one. It was all I could think of. You're on your own with this one._

_Alright. I actually have an idea anyway. No worries._

_Good. You know I was really afraid I would lose sleep over this. _

_So much for you being a nice person, Henri._

When the final bell of the day rang, the stampedes no longer took effect. Out of Mr. Ortega's US History class walked Daynon "Spot" Conlon and Jack "Cowboy" Kelly. Spot had a pen in his hand and began to chew on the cap as they started walking. The pair weren't far down the hallway before they were joined up by Racetrack. He ran to catch up with them, and it was probably the only time he ever hustled while under the roof of the school.

"Whoa, you better save your energy, Race," Jack told his friend once was next to him.

"What ya talking about?"

"You're gonna have to walk to my house today," Spot put in. His usual smirk graced his face as he stuck the cap back in his mouth. It was a habit of his.

"What you talking about? Why?" Race asked, looking from Jack to Spot with a pissed off, worried look on his face.

"I'm already driving Spot, Mush, Snoody, Specs, Boots, and Itey. Don't have anymore room," Jack said, looking ahead of him with an arrogant grin.

"But you're truck seats seven. You still got room for me."

"You forgot to count the driver, asshole," Spot said, still smirking and biting down on his pen. He gave a playful punch to Race's cheek and then gave a cynical laugh.

"Oh. Shit. Why the hell would you guys screw me over like this? Did I deserve this or something? Please, let me know," Race rolled his eyes. He clearly wasn't in the mood for this now.

"Just the way it happens. You gotta be quicker ta ask me for a ride," Jack said.

"Wait, what about Pie? You're not driving him, are you?" Race said, suddenly graced with an idea. Jack thought and then shook his head. Before he could open his mouth, Race said a quick "Meet you at Spot's!" and took off looking for Pie Eater, hoping he hadn't left already.

He was lucky enough to find him at his locker, already closing it and putting his backpack on his back.

"Pie! Wait!" Race called to him. Pie turned around just in time to stop his friend from running into him.

"Race! Good I was gonna look for you! Look, I need to ask you something-"

"Wait, before you do, did you drive here today? And if so can you give me a ride to Spot's?"

"Yeah. And sure, but only if you do me a favor."

"What?"

"Get me one of those passes from the nurse that says I'm supposed to walk with people on crutches and help them to class."


End file.
